The Perks of Anonymity
by Setalina Muro
Summary: He didn't know her name, but her pretty hazel eyes held a future for him. "I could love you," he whispered, sweeping aside her fiery hair. “But first I have a game for you." PxS Opticshipping


**The Perks of Anonymity  
By:  
Setalina Muro  
**

**Summary:** He didn't know her name, but her pretty hazel eyes held a future for him. "I could love you," he whispered, sweeping aside her fiery hair."But first I have a game for you." PxS

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any places, people and/or other things you are familiar with from the show or anything else. This plot, however, and all other plots posted under this user name, is mine.

**A/N:** Ah...yeah. This is waaay late. This is Yamiko's belated birthday present (her b-day was last Sunday. [coughsAnyway. Happy B-day Yamiko!! Big 2-0!!

Also, this has to be my most misleading summary ever.

**Notes on the Story: **Opticshipping based on an essay in 'The Short Prose Reader' and possibly an episode of "_How I Met Your Mother"_ from 2006. Roughly.

Translations can be found at the bottom.

* * *

**The Perks of Anonymity**

* * *

It was going to be one of _those_ nights, he registered with a contemptuous sigh; the kind of night where nothing happened. He had forced himself out of his empty house, was driven down to this lonely street, and now sat in the utterly vacant restaurant. There were a few occupants: couples and solitary connoisseurs like himself. He had taken to a glass of wine, sipping it delicately as he looked over the menu. Certainly, he had come here to eat, but what, pray tell, was a greater interest at restaurants than people watching? And _what_ was the point of doing that if there was no one to watch?

He was a solitary man. It was not the kind of life he would have chosen for himself; he was the kind of man who could have enjoyed the company of a significant other, perhaps a few small children. But no, the chance for such a life had faded behind him long ago. Pegasus Crawford had lost all opportunity for that kind of simple happiness when his wife died and he began to play his game.

He let a small smile cross his face as something of interest clattered into the restaurant. The door opened, revealing ayoung woman in a long grey coat looking rather disheveled as she hurried in. For a moment before the door closed, he saw the sheets of pouring rain outside and a cool burst of air followed her in. The girl took a moment to breathe deeply. He figured she had rushed into the restaurant when the storm had started. Her hair was a deep auburn, he noted, and falling out of the neat bun she had arranged it in.

She straightened up and looked toward the maître d', allowing an apologetic smile to slide over her face. He was watching the girl with a critical eye, a small, tight frown on his lips.

"Can I 'elp you with some'zing, Mademoiselle?" he sneered, obviously in regards to her appearance.

Her smile fell slightly and in a meek, wavering voice, barely audible to Pegasus at the far table, she said, "I would like a table please." There was no struggle with her English, but the faintest hint of a foreign accent played on her syllables.

Pegasus noted the shrewd look on the maître d's face and frowned. The waiter looked down his long nose at the girl. "We 'ave no tables," he said callously.

"No tables?" her head craned slightly to peer at the patrons. "But there are a lot of tables."

"Perhaps you misunderstood," the waiter replied, casually examining his nails. "I meant we do not serve riffraff here."

The girl was taken aback sharply. The patron at the far back watched her, eyes narrowing as he picked up his wine. Silently, Pegasus was prompting the girl to lash out at the steward. He knew the words were severely unkind. The girl had appeared utterly polite until those words had passed his lips.

"Baka!" she hissed out. "Doshite omoikitte anata ga!"

While the maître d''s face contorted into furious disgust, Pegasus burst into a fit of laughter, leaning forward to return his drink to the table. After a moment, he stifled his chortles and returned his gaze to the entertainment before him, the eye not hidden behind the curtain of silver hair shining with humor.

The girl and the waiter stood still, glaring at each other. The Frenchman, of course, seemed to have no inkling of what the young girl had said to him in that foreign, sweet-sounding language. His mouth opened, but as he began to lash out in turn, a hand closed on his shoulder. Surprised, he turned to gaze at the smiling face of the silver-haired man he had seated not moments before.

"If you need something, sir," he began, flustered. "I will—"

"The lady will be accompanying me to my table," Pegasus intervened, his smile both sedate and intimidating. Redwood eyes moved to meet the girl's startled gaze. "Sumimasen. Kono otoko wa baka desu ne. Watashi o ikunasai?"

The waiter looked appalled for a moment as a person he considered a _respectable_ patron offered the girl his hand. She let a small smile slide over her face and the fire died from her eyes to be replaced by a grateful gleam as she allowed herself to be escorted to the table. She glanced behind her, giving the waiter a triumphantly smug smile. He was defeated.

Pegasus seated her across from him in a gentlemanly fashion, holding out the chair and then moving it in for her. He then took his place across from her and for a moment, they merely gazed at each other before a soft giggled echoed from her mouth. Her hand moved to catch it, but Pegasus had already given into the merriment, bursting into laughter himself.

"Thank you," she said when their cachinnate had faded to vague, warm smiles.

"Not necessary," he assured, flipping over the glass in front of her and pouring water from the chilled pitcher into it. "I have watched that man turn away others just as rudely, time and time again."

"Ah." She took a drink, coolly swishing the water. "And what may I call my would-be rescuer?"

His eyebrows knit together and a small frown touched his lips. "Names are so…_formal_," he said slowly. "Perhaps anonymity has its own perks?"

She smiled and leaned toward him. "So am I supposed to address you as 'sir' all evening?"

"Oh…" He mused for a moment, observing the flaw in his thought process. "I see your point. Shall we pick names to address each other by then?"

She blinked. "That could work…" The girl gazed off and absently began to fix her hair.

Now that the she was closer, Pegasus found himself observing her. She was a slim, beautiful creature, possibly graceful in situations that _didn't_ involve sudden rainstorms. Her hair had a brilliant red tint to it and it shone softly against the pale, glittering pink fabric of her dress. Her face tapered to a rounded chin and her alluring eyes were an intelligent hazel. Her lips parted and he started from his reverie.

"Masato-san," she declared, smiling triumphantly.

Pegasus chuckled, finding the Japanese name meaning _'elegant man'_ humorous. "Alright," he consented. "And you…" He pondered it for a moment, trying to single out one charming characteristic she emulated. "Kotone-chan," he concluded. "You have a lovely voice."

A pale blush painted her cheeks.

"So." He paused for a moment as a server came by to collect their orders, then returned his attention to her. "What possessed you to come to this snobbish place?"

A soft smile touched her face and she pulled a small notebook from her purse.

"It's for a class, actually," she replied, taking a thin pair of glasses and putting them on. Glancing at her notebook and pulling out a pen, she daintily scribbled something down and set them aside. "I'm going to run a bakery," she beamed.

His thoughts rested for a moment on mountains of confections covered in pink icing and the girl coated in a thin layer of white flour, toiling way beneath them, a contented smile on her bright face.

"It sounds lovely," he acknowledged.

"It will be," she bubbled. "I have it all planned out. I'll finish school in the next two years and find a place downtown where I can set up shop. It'll be two stories, a café and shop downstairs where people can sit and drink coffee and eat cookies and pastries. Then upstairs is where the main baking will be done and people can drop by and get fresh breads and specialty cakes." She gazed off dreamily and sighed, her eyes wide and bright.

"I remember having beautiful dreams like that."

Slightly confused, she glanced at him. "Do you not anymore, Masato-san?"

Pegasus smiled a little, but shook his head. "Not quite. I run a company, although the name alone would tell you who I was, but being a businessman was never something I wanted to do."

"What did you want?" she asked.

"A family, I suppose." His face clouded a bit. "My wife died."

In the silence that followed, their food arrived. Almost daintily he picked at his pasta, fork idling among the long, butter-glazed strands. The quiet seemed heavy between them.

"I used to paint," he continued in a softer voice, and she glanced up to meet his gaze. "I loved painting."

"So you wanted to be an artist then?" she asked.

"Yes…"

"But you said 'loved'. Past tense." Her brow knit sympathetically. "Do you really not paint anymore?"

He shook his head slowly, bringing a forkful of spaghetti to his lips.

"Why?"

The question took him by surprise, his half-veiled face lining with it. He wondered for a moment if his previous statement had blown right by her. That passion had been part of his old life; a life before the dark shadows and ancient mysteries that had engulfed him so many years ago. His hand brushed reminiscently at the silver mane of hair covering the left side of his face, marred by an accident he shuddered to dwell on.

She watched him closely for a moment, seeing the disbelief flit across his face and leaned closer. "If you loved painting," she said softly. "And if you loved her, losing both must have made your life miserable."

Pegasus stared for a moment, drawn in by the raw compassion in her hazel eyes.

"No wife would want her husband miserable when she's gone."

He felt a smooth, slightly perplexed smile touch his face as a sudden inspiration struck him and he quickly pulled a pen from his pocket to sketch the girl in front of him. She watched his unrestrained strokes grace the paper and her face took shape on the place setting before her.

"That's amazing," she breathed.

He looked over his hurried sketch, quickly scrawling his name into the folds of her dark hair. Content that it was hidden, and secretly pleased by his sly, he tore the drawing from the placemat and slid it across the table to her.

Her eyes were wide with awe and she picked it up with reverence. "How could you give up something you're so good at?" she whispered. "Something you loved?"

He felt a bitter laugh echo from his throat. "Things got…complicated."

She didn't question him; didn't press him for details. She merely smiled, a little sadly, and glanced up from her portrait.

"Life goes on," she said simply, matter-of-factly.

The comment struck him dumb for a moment as the idea flitted across his mind. Time, it seemed, had been biding for this moment; his life had been on pause for so long, it was as if all he was doing was idling, lying in wait... he had been waiting for something and he wasn't sure what it was. But now he saw it as the words echoed from her lips. He had been waiting for someone to tell him it was okay to live again.

He reached across the table after his pause and wrapped his hands around hers. They were small and delicate in his palms, warm and quivering. He half-rose from his seat and brought her hands to his lips, kissing them gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, releasing her and returning to his seat.

Her face flushed and she glanced away shyly. "You're welcome," she murmured.

He picked up his face and set into his pasta again, pausing for a moment to gesture at the flustered girl's sandwich.

"Eat up," he said, smiling. "I'm paying."

* * *

Outside, a soft mist had descended along the board walk. The rain had stopped, leaving starlight dappled puddles along the ground. Two people walked daintily on the wooden planks. Her laughter rang out loudly across the chilled air.

"It's completely true," Pegasus chuckled, raising one hand in vow.

"Masato-san, that's so _weird_," she giggled.

She was bubbly and effervescent, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Their pace slowed and she turned to face the evening sky, stars rising softly on the horizon.

She sighed contently. "This night has been so great."

"Indeed." He leaned beside her on the railing. "Would you like a ride home?"

Her smile flashed at him brilliantly and she danced away. "I do believe," she spun to face him. "That that would compromise the anonymity."

He strolled toward her casually, hands in pockets and paused, peering down at her. Her height barely brought her head to the top of his chin, but she looked back, unabashed. "There's something I want you to have," he confided quietly, removing a clean white handkerchief from his pocket. It had an unnatural bulge in it and he handed it to her, fingers lingering against her palm. "Do you like games, Kotone-san?" he asked.

She nodded a little, twirling the small bundle.

"Good. Then I have a game for you." He smiled almost deviously. "In that bundle is a collection of unmarked bills roughly totaling five thousand dollars."

Her eyes widened and she began to sputter an interruption, but he held up his hand.

"We're playing a game, remember?" he said. "You have to listen to the rules." His hand ghosted aside a stray collection of her auburn hair. "Now, this plays on the anonymity. I think I wouldvery muchlike to fall in love with you, but you have dreams to accomplish first. I'm giving you what aid I have on me and the rest is up to you. If…" And here he paused, gazing into her wide, surprised eyes. "If in ten years you spare a thought for me in your success, find me."

"How?" she whispered.

"That's part of the game," he responded. "Use any method available to you."

A flash of intuition was suddenly behind her gaze. "Close your eyes."

He smiled and consented. His ears picked up a delicate rustling sound and something soft and silky was pressed into his hand. His fingers curled around it and he felt her hand brush his cheek. She was close enough that he could feel the heat from her body and she gently kissed on side of his mouth.

"I'll find you," she whispered, kissing the other side as well. "I promise I'll repay you."

"The only repayment I want," his eyes opened and he gazed at her in her close proximity, "is a perfect cupcake, baked by your hands only."

She laughed for a moment and moved away. Her grasp lingered on his cheek as long as it could before she resolutely walked out of sight.

Pegasus turned and gazed at the silvery ribbon in his palm, a soft smile on his face. Embossed on the length were a few kanji making out her name. _Shizuka._

Yes. She would find him again.

He knew it.

**The End**

* * *

_Translation Section_

_Baka!Doshite omoikitte anata ga!_ --Ridiculous! How dare you!

_Sumimasen. kono otoko wa baka desu ne. Watashi o ikunasai---_ I'm sorry. This man is a fool. Will you join me?

_Masato_---Elegant man

_Kotone_ --- a harp sound

* * *

**A/N:** Now honestly I hate having such an open ending, but frankly, if I had given this its original ending, it would have been so ridiculously cliché I would have been ready to gag. As it were, it's going to end like this. Very open and ready to go where ever you please. At any rate, Happy Birthday to Yamiko again. To everyone else, hope you enjoyed. Please R&R.

Lina.


End file.
